Tuppence
by AbaddonNox
Summary: In hindsight, the duality had always existed... an Adam exploration set as the events of Breach are about to unfold.


Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Sanctuary. Furthermore, the beliefs, events, etc. depicted in this work do not in any way represent the opinions, actions, etc. of the writer. Reader discretion is thusly advised.  
><span>Spoilers<span>: Set just before the events of "Breach" (3.07), but to be safe, everything up to and including "Tempus" (4.01).  
><span>AN: Just my lowly attempt at exploring Adam's background, motives, etc. Give thanks to Robert Louis Stevenson where it is due, and enjoy ample head-canon as well as detail(s) pulled from the historical Adam Worth's life.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuppence<br>**

In hindsight, the duality had always existed. Conflicting feelings. Sharp swings in mood. That little voice which nagged him with consequences. The other who would doggedly egg him on. No one ever understood this polarity - understood _him_ - and neither did he, at first. Why else had he dabbled in mind-altering elixirs and mental panacea, treated this offsetting of the soul as a disease, a malady simply in need of a cure, but only truly succeeded in inducing volatile imbalances colorful enough to ensnare the attention of musing writers? It had been sheer foolishness to meddle with it. Wrong, even. He'd learnt that harsh lesson long before the condition acquired a formal label. Oh, but they'd had novel terms for it, though - excitability, eccentricity, mania - and blamed it on everything from the coarseness of "modest" beginnings, to fumes ebulliating from the noxious compounds he worked with, and even the "fiery" nature of Irish blood. At best these were said with cool politeness to his face, at worst whispered behind his back. And he knew they were, gleaned it from their faces, the halted conversations as he approached, the locked doors, the looks of disdain - or worse - _pity_.

_You're a different person_, his wife told him. This was before she announced her intentions of leaving, before that last horrible argument, before things were said and done which couldn't be unsaid or undone. _You've changed. Sometimes... sometimes I look into your eyes, and I don't see the man I married_. Of course he'd changed. Why else the move to London, the struggle to enter Oxford, but to improve and promote himself, open doors onto a better life? Hadn't she seen that everything he achieved, all the fruits of his labor, were hers as well? At the time he'd thought she was feeling neglected, accusing him of putting on airs. Yet perhaps she had seen something, feminine intuition and a certain objectivity allowing her to glimpse what took him far longer to admit. No, ascertain. In the end she'd been no different from the others, never genuinely believing in him, threatened by what couldn't be understood and thus driven to check it, impede it, impede _him_. Undermine promise, _brilliance_. She made her choice. Yes, and left him - _them_ - none. The civil divorce under an uncommon case of desertion offered no room for remarriage, but also little desire for it. Adam didn't need an Eve. No, you only need yourself. Women. Nothing but a harem of conniving, backstabbing _Deliliahs_. Yet not his daughter. No, not Imogene. She could've been different. Would've been different. _Will_ be different.

He'd had everything, then. Promising research. A loving daughter. Despite how much him and his work were ridiculed and obstructed she was always there, unconditionally seeing his true, for lack of a better term... worth. It had been like that since the very beginning, from the moment he laid eyes on her. He would never forget it. A sensation washed over him, a rush of emotion which up until then had only accompanied pivotal breakthroughs - leaps so profound, yet so elegant in their simplicity, that they were realization more than discovery. Something that was there all along, not right before your eyes, behind them, waiting. Not something you had to reach for, but something you fell into, like coming into your own. Everything just, clicked. Kismet. That, _that_ was why he was born, for that moment. To breath life into that invention, that theory, that idea, _that_ brainchild. To actualize it, nurture it, introduce it to the world, and introduce the world to it. Imogene. She was his finest creation, best thing he ever made. His one great discovery, his gift to the world, and... he failed it. Failed her. No, _she_ failed her...

... Helen Magnus. The immortal shrew. For all he knew she bathed in the sanguine fruits of her clandestine research, and like that _bloody_ Hungarian countess, granted herself eternal youth at the cost of said youth - youth like his precious daughter, and they called HIM ill, _depraved_. Did Helen really have to die, to suffer? Yes, yes she did. The great Doctor Magnus would live, yet at THEIR whim and not a moment longer. As for suffering, what's life but pain? It was about time the pampered hussy learned as much. Clearly losing a child - a _daughter_ - hadn't sunk that lesson in. Yet they always knew she was a stonish _harpy_, and would chip away at that, not to worry, _radiate_ it through to the bone, if need be. The trap was set, baited with a plea for assistance that even the most hardened of bleeding hearts would find irresistible. It was only a matter of time now, the temporal-dilation nodules would make sure of that. Lovely toys, those. The energy source which powered them well worth dying for. Praxians sat on such advances like an engorged dragon atop its hoard. They wasted their technology, squandered it. And what was this all about if not waste? Wasted potential. Wasted brilliance. A wasted life. Revenge was in order. Yes, balance. Tit for tat. Recompense. Comeuppance. Restitution. Ranna was always talking about balance in her pompous speeches, but what did she know of it? Always shielding her precious city from anything which might shift any equilibrium, be it political, social, or scientific. The upper crust of every society, below ground as well as above, were all infuriatingly similar. Had Helen or her quartet of _faithful_ eunuchs ever questioned the prime minister's motives? Contemplated why what was seemingly a deadly masterpiece had been left unattended by yours truly? _Wondered_ why it all culminated on that scenic cliff and not another? PONDERED the deathbed gift of true _sanctuary_ to dearest Johnny? Of course not. What good dogs. What a fine _bitch_. Was it possible that depilated misogynist hadn't sold or _fetched_ his Gainsborough in some misguided attempt to prevail upon said vixen? Unlikely, yet why mourn a painting acquired because it evoked the lady his late daughter might have been, when he could watch the one she would become? There was no point dwelling on the past, particularly when you could change it. Time. It really could heal all wounds. And then? There's nothing he - _they_- couldn't accomplish together.

One step at a time, no need to get ahead of themselves. It WAS all about the destination, yet frivol away the journey? That simply wouldn't do, and wasn't how the game was played. Speaking of which, this one was about to start. His quarry approached. He would prove that dusty old adage wrong. One old _bird_ in hand could NEVER compare to two in the bush, be it a neatly-trimmed hedge maze or the unkempt urban equivalent he temporarily occupied. Soon there would be nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, because... wasn't it obvious? Hide. _Hyde_. He knew all about _HYDE-ing_. One more than the other, true, but it WAS a _joint_ enterprise. They WERE in this together. Til death do us part. _Two_ peas in a pod. _Brains_ as well as _brawn_. _One_ to speak softly, _another_ to carry the BIG stick. _Mister_ Hyde and _Master_ Seek - Stevenson, the unimaginative _hack_, truly did shamelessly plagiarize AND _bastardize_ his best lines. What's in a name? _Everything_. He was - most definitely - _worth_ it.

Every penny.

* * *

><p><span>AN: Like most of my recent works, this was actually a log sample for an online RP application. However, it did have ficlet beginnings, and I thought it held its own enough to post. As always, thank you for reading and any/all feedback is greatly appreciated :)


End file.
